Black Cats and Voodoo Dolls
by Follow-ur-Shadow
Summary: Harvey considers his hesitation towards marriage and makes a decision regarding his future with Donna.


**Black Cats and Voodoo Dolls**

**Category: **Romance/fluff

**Summary: **He isn't superstitious. He's never avoided a black cat, stepped around a ladder or asked for a sign in his life and the truth is far more rational.

**AN: **This started out as a tag to 904 but then turned into something else set a bit later, dealing with Harvey's thoughts surrounding marriage. I didn't even mean to start writing it :P I was working on something else and it just kind of word vomited onto the page hahaha

* * *

He stands at the window with his coffee, eyes cast over the grey skyline of NYC, watching the sunrise strain through the storm clouds rolling in. The hints of light die quickly, the patter of rain falling in place of the vivid hues and he shuffles his socks slightly back on the polished floor, not quite caffeinated enough to grasp there's a barrier between himself and the opening sky.

He tries to jolt himself with another sip and a yawn stretches his mouth around the porcelain rim. Years ago he would have already been to the gym, picked at a few fruits for breakfast, and be fully dressed trying to usher his latest conquest out of bed.

Now though, he's slower in the mornings, wanting to stay wrapped up in the warmth of his long-term girlfriend, who is anything but an early riser. He almost always wakes up first, his body slack with pins and needles from where he's wound beneath her during the night, and he's come to love the irritated crinkle that twitches her brow when he moves them. It means she was content, _happy_, and it never ceases to make him pause and take in her in. Sometimes only for a few seconds but it's always enough to pull a protest from her lips, one she claims never to remember when she's fully awake and teasing him back.

He smirks into his cup, circling his hands around the cooling warmth as he brings it back down. A rumble of thunder erupts, echoing around the open apartment, an area that used to be sparse compared to the homely feel it's taken on in recent weeks. Items have slowly started migrating from her place to his; a comforter on the couch, a plant in the kitchen, some books and few pictures scattered around. They still alternate where they stay but his suits aren't as compactable as her dresses and as simple as it sounds, it's the reason why they've naturally started gravitating to his place more. He's been on the cusp of asking her to move in but the words never quite reach passed his hesitation, the leap to marriage stonewalling them for reasons he's still deliberating with.

They joked about it early on and it's not like he's in any doubt over where their relationship is heading. She's the most important person in his life, that's not going to change, but there's something about the sanctity of vowels that makes him uneasy, as if speaking them into existence puts a promise out there to be broken. It's a ridiculous notion, that they'd somehow be chancing fate, and a sudden flash of lighting illuminates it as nothing more than an excuse.

He isn't superstitious.

He's never avoided a black cat, stepped around a ladder or asked for a sign in his life and the truth is far more rational. Watching his parent's marriage fall apart damaged him, made a mockery of his ideals and expectations, but Donna's spent over a decade helping to heal those misgivings and he sighs, the heat fogging the window as the rain hits harder against the deck.

If it was just about him he wouldn't see the point but he draws on Mike and Rachel's wedding day, how happy Donna was for them, and she deserves that for herself; a unity to present, no matter how irrelevant he thinks officiating it is. If it's what she wants he's willing to bend because forever means more than signing a piece of paper and it's certainly not going to stop for each compromise they linger at along the way. They're in this, and the commitment doesn't scare him, it just makes his feelings more resolute.

"Not going for a run?"

Her voice is groggy as it floats in behind him, his gaze slipping from the weather to her tousled hair and slow approach. The crinkled miss-buttoned shirt is a sign she's still half asleep and he abandons his musings with a smile, lifting an eyebrow as she prises the now lukewarm coffee from his grip. "Not unless you want to invest in a yacht."

The joke washes over her as she blinks in the droplets cascading down outside. They were up late, a few too many wines still swimming around her head, and she leans into his side trying to escape the cold seeping through the glass. "It's raining."

He chuckles softly, his fingers reaching around to catch her waist and ward off the chill. He's used to her lack of observance in the mornings but the ever-so-slight grasp at his sweater speaks to her state, the clinginess usually only appearing when she's feeling vulnerable or in this case hungover. "I told you not to open the Merlot."

She winces at the jibe, her head sinking into his shoulder as a flash of lightening brightens the cityscape. She has absolutely no desire to go out in the storm, much less work today, but calling in sick would be a little obvious especially given he warned her about drinking too much last night. "A gentleman would have hidden the bottle."

He scoffs at the quip, tugging her closer and gathering her hair to the side with a gentle sweep. She angles back on instinct and his lips feather lightly beneath her earlobe finding the sensitive spot that always makes her shiver. "This _gentleman_ knows exactly how that would have turned out..." he dips further down, trailing his mouth along her collar bone, "with you drinking all my scotch instead."

She swallows thickly, his husky voice causing a wobble in her knees, and she steadies her hold on the mug grateful when his arms tighten around her. She really _should_ try and defend herself but he's too damn distracting, the weight of his body and another sip of caffeine taking her to a place outside of her hangover.

He smiles at the obvious yielding, thumbing the buttons that she haphazardly slipped through the wrong holes. "Come _on,_" he instructs, not deeming it necessary to hide his amusement, "let's get you out of this and into a shower, you'll feel better."

She wants to protest, tell him she's fine exactly how they are, but senses it would be a futile exercise. She might reign over everything else but he's like a drill sergeant with his routine in the morning and she realizes, for the first time since stumbling out, that he isn't dressed yet either. Something odd given his usually air tight schedule. "Why were you at the window?" She tilts her gaze up curiously, letting go of the cup when he seeks it out for himself with a coy smile.

"Hmmm... just thinking."

His answering shrug doesn't reveal anything but her mouth still twitches with humor. "This early, should I be worried?"

"_Funny__-_" he unhooks himself with a smirk, "Miss 'I-can't-string-a-sentence-together' before 7am."

He's rewarded with a slap and manages to keep the coffee from spilling but more significantly doesn't stumble over the idea of marriage as it flitters back into his thoughts. If the only difference is going to be this but with a wedding band on his finger then to hell to with it, he'd propose right now, though the need to make it a little more memorable curbs any rash impulses. When he does ask it might not turn out exactly how she would've planned but he's going to make sure it's the third time in her life that she's left completely speechless.

"Hey, goofy?" She has no idea why he's grinning like an idiot but it's infectious and she takes his free hand, raising an eyebrow, "you mentioned something about getting me into the shower?"

He blinks the glaze from his eyes, concealing what he's thinking before she sees straight through him. Never mind black cats and voodoo dolls, the woman's a goddamn clairvoyant, and he pulls her with a tug, depositing his mug on the counter so he can usher her forward using both arms to steer her soft laughter. He might not have any psychic inclinations himself but he doesn't need them to know two things; that when he asks she's going to say yes... and that there's no way in hell they're making it into the office on time this morning.

Something that has nothing to do with the storm outside and everything to do with with the woman he's going to marry.

xx


End file.
